


How Do You Do

by spikesgirl58



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E.
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-11
Updated: 2013-10-11
Packaged: 2017-12-29 03:18:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1000244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spikesgirl58/pseuds/spikesgirl58
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ruth Ann decides to bring Illya home to meet her parents.  They are in for a world of surprise.  Warning:  very het!</p>
            </blockquote>





	How Do You Do

There’s an old adage that states the fastest way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.  I’d argue with that.  After considerable research, I’d like to suggest that a faster way to a man’s heart is through his dick.

I had my blond badass flat on his back and halfway to Happy Town when I popped the question. 

“How about dinner at my folks’ place tomorrow?”  I took his half-strangled groan to mean yes and went back to work on him, not saying any more mostly because my mother taught me that it was impolite to talk with my mouth full.   

 I have to admit, there is something to be said for sleeping with agents, and for the record, it’s just two of them.  These guys are dynamos in the sack; they hold nothing back once they’ve started and my little… no, strike that, there is nothing little about Illya.  He works hard and he loves even harder.  And he approaches sex the way he approaches food, enthusiastically, appreciatively, and without restraint.  I like to think it takes a special woman to keep up with him.

We were in the shower and I was paying special attention to my most favorite bit of his anatomy and he seemed totally mesmerized with soaping my breasts.  I was beginning to wonder if he’d even heard me. 

“When?” he suddenly asked.

“When what?”

“When’s dinner?” 

Ah, so he had heard me.  I keep forgetting that agents aren’t like the other guys who work for UNCLE.  Their brains and their dicks aren’t necessarily wired to be one and the same.  They can actually think and fuck at the same time, I like that in a man. 

“How about you pick me up at five?  My folks live in the suburbs.”  I sighed as he began to gently pinch my nipples.  I swear this man could give sex lessons to a rabbit.

“Do I need to bring anything… special?”  His mouth replaced his fingers on my left breast and his hand started to trail down my stomach. I knew right where this was headed.

“Nothing special, just your handsome self…”  I sighed.  The man had the most talented tongue.  The only one better was Napoleon and I’d noted some interesting similarities between the two and wondered who had taught whom… and whether I could get them to agree to a threesome… at least I knew what my next question would be when the situation… um… arose…

“And the reason for said visit?”  His mouth was starting to follow his fingers and I bit my lip to keep from moaning as one digit found my clit.  Oh God, this man knew all the right spots…

“Huh?”

“Reason?”  He backed off a little, presumably to give me a chance to think clearly.

“Um, home cooked meal?”  I tried as he sank to his knees and lifted one of my legs over his shoulder.  I could feel his breath on my skin, tickling my carefully groomed pubic hair as he drew closer.

“Try again.”

“To meet my folks?”

“Why?”   His tongue dipped in for a quick taste.  “Tell me.”

Okay, so the guy was an expert interrogator and I was ready to spill my guts to him.  “You will make them crazy…”

“Like I make you crazy?”  And then he got down to business and the last thing on my mind for the next few minutes was my parents.   He’s good that way.

 

The next afternoon I was standing, waiting in front of my place, glancing at my watch every few minutes.  He’s not usually late, but it wouldn’t be the first time he’d gotten called halfway to my place and had to head back to work.  That’s the problem with Section Two guys, especially the ones higher up; no matter what, the job comes first.  It ALWAYS comes first.  I think it’s one reason why they both continued to date me, because I realized that and don’t make an issue out of it.  I don’t like the thought that I might never see them alive or whole again when they go out into the field, but I sure as hell know **I’d** never see them again if I try to keep them from going out.  I just take what they can give me and enjoy it. 

Then I saw the sports car slowing and knew it was him.  It was a one of the cars that UNCLE used as a loaner for these guys.  How he managed to snag it was one of his little mysteries, but it was a convertible and had a nice backseat.  It was as if he’d synchronized up with my thoughts without even knowing it.

And I knew he looked damn fine tonight.  He’d ditched his usual suit for a blue polo shirt that’s color really brought out the blue in his eyes and it clung to him like a second skin.  I loved it when he wore his shirts like that.  And a tight pair of chinos that fit him like a glove and showed off his ass...ets very nicely.  I was ready to call Mom, beg off and peel him there and then.

He pulled his sunglasses off and climbed out to open the car door for me. Normally I would have protested, but I loved watching him move, sleek and catlike.  He kissed me, pulling me as close as was decently possible on a street corner.  I could smell his aftershave, clean and sharp, and grinned.  This had all the makings of a very interesting evening.

 

We drove, listening to the radio and chatting about work.  I don’t have his clearance, of course, but that was okay.  There was still plenty to talk about.  We ditched the city and the tall buildings gave way to more space and suddenly we were in Suburbia Heaven.    Now I started concentrating more on the surroundings and less on his crotch, which looked really, really appealing tonight. I still keep one hand on his thigh though – he really does have wonderful thighs – and occasionally let my hand dip a little lower, stroking him.

He caught my hand and brought to his mouth, kissing my fingers, and set it back down on my knee.  “You need to behave yourself tonight.”

“Why?”

“The last thing I want is to meet your parents with an erection and in these pants, there’s nowhere to hide.”

“I meant to compliment you on them earlier.  They really are wonderful… turn left here.”

“Napoleon’s doing, not mine.”

“He dresses you?”

“At the time, it was the only option I had left to me that made sense.”  Illya glanced quickly over at me, an impish grin on his lips.

“I am so going to get the two of you together one of these days and talk. And another left here, please?”

“I suspect if you got the two of us together, the last thing upon any of our minds would be talk.”

Crap, I nearly came out of my skin with that.  That told me he wasn’t above… hmm, my mind happily abandoned the thought of dinner and began to rearrange my vacation days.

 

We pulled up in front of Mom and Dad’s place a few minute later.  Illya looked as cool as a tall glass of water as he brushed his hair into place and I looked like a nervous wreck.  It was supposed to be the other way around, wasn’t it?  Of course, this character had faced death squads, torture, guns, rogue camels, you-name-it, on a daily basis.  He’d seen it all - why would a set of parents freak him out?

Illya came around and opened my door.  I saw the living room curtain move, a sure sign that my youngest brother, Bret, had been keeping an eye out and was now heralding our arrival.  Mom would be peeling off her apron; Dad would be turning off the TV and setting aside the paper he had been pretending to read for the last half hour.  I’d gone through this routine with my older sister and my next in line brother.  With any luck Michael would be out on his own date.  He’d managed to scuttle the last two relationships I’d brought home.  Bret was almost as bad.  For some reason, those two didn’t think any man I brought home was good enough.

The door opened as we approached and the very picture of Happy Suburban Parents appeared.  I grabbed Illya’s hand, lest he try to bolt, and grinned.

“Hi, Mom, hi, Dad.”  I pushed Illya forward and he smirked a little at me.  “This is Illya.  Illya, my Mom, Annette, and my Dad, Tony.”

“Illya?”  My dad sort of worked the name around on his tongue as they shook hands.  “What sort of name is that?”

“Russian, sir.” 

“You’re a Russian?”  Dad grasped the obvious pretty quickly and sort of flexed his hand.  “That’s some grip you got there, son.”

“He’s a doctor,” I added and my mom came to life.  I had said the magic word and she giggled as Illya took her hand and bowed to it, lightly kissing the back of it.  Oh, she was so gone after that…

“A doctor?  What’s your specialty?”

“Avoiding entanglements,” I mumbled and Illya grinned.  That’s what I wanted.  When he smiled like that, all was right in my world.

“I’m sorry, dear?”  Mom looked at me and then back at Illya.

“Quantum Mechanics.  I studied at Cambridge.”

“That explains your accent.”  And there went Dad.  Now if I could just keep my brother at bay… and no such luck.  At fifteen, he was already as tall as Illya and he didn’t look happy as he loomed behind Mom and Dad.

“And this is my rotten brother, Bret.”

“So, you’re a Commie,” he blurted out, looking Illya up and down.  At fifteen, Bret already had an inch on him and I knew it made him feel like a big man.

“No, I am Russian; there is a subtle difference.”  Oh Lord, that was not going to sit well with Bret – he hated to be cut down like that and Illya was the master of word play.

“Let’s not stand out here and give the neighbors something to gossip about.  Why don’t you come in?”

We hit the living room and Mom grabbed my arm, dragging me away to the kitchen and leaving Illya to the mercy of my father and brother… I caught a familiar shape coming down the stairs and swore to myself. Correction, brothers… Michael was home.  The guy was big and mean and really possessive of me, for whatever reason I’m not quite sure.   I just hoped Illya was in good form tonight.

“So, how long have you been dating?”  Mom didn’t even let me catch my breath.

“A while.”

“Serious?”  She began tending to her pots and pans.  One thing I have to give Mom, she’s a great cook and I knew she’d pulled out all the stops for dinner this evening. 

“Serious enough.”  I straightened my skirt and sat.  Mom would die if she knew I was wearing a garter belt under my slip… and nothing else.  No matter what happened tonight, I was determined to introduce Illya to another little tradition we had out here.

 “He has a nice smile though and his eyes are lovely.”  She drained the potatoes.     He seems nice, sweetheart, but a little intense.” 

“It’ more he’s like scared out of his skin,” I corrected.  “Daddy has that effect on my dates.

“Although, don’t you think his hair is a bit long?”

 “I like his hair.”  I didn’t tell Mom it was because it made such a nice handful to grip when he was going down on me.  Without meaning to, my mind wandered and I could feel myself slicking up just at the thought of all the incredible talents that man had tucked away.  For a moment, I was in my little Happy Place and then I realized Mom was talking.

“I’m sorry?”

“Oh, sweetheart, you **are** in love, aren’t you?”

“Mmm,” I answered, smiling.  It wasn’t love, it was lust, pure and simple and given the opportunity, I’d had slapped him down on the dining room table and gone to town.  The mental image of my parents’ faces made me giggle.  “I’m sorry, Mom, you were saying?”

“But a Russian, sweetheart, are you sure?”

“That he’s Russian?   Of course, I’ve seen his… passport.”  And a helluva lot more than that, but she didn’t need to know that either.  The first time I’d seen Illya naked made me realize what the Hallelujah Chorus was all about.  “I just hope Daddy behaves himself.”

“He wants what’s best for you, dear, as do your brothers.”

“My brothers are bullies,” I corrected her.  “The last guy I brought home Mikey chased off with hedge clippers.”

“Well, he was a bit flighty.”

“Illya’s not.” 

“I noticed.  But, sweetheart… a Russian?  He seems so… so… Bohemian.” She whispered the last word.

“He plays in a jazz combo and everything,” I whispered back.  “And he’s been on the stage.”  I grinned wickedly now.  “And he’s hung like a….”

“Ruth Anne Gilbaldi!  You wash those impure thoughts from your head this instant!”

“C’mon, Mom, I saw you checking his ass out…” I grinned as she blushed furiously.  Still waters ran deep in my house and I still remember the day I found that ‘special’ drawer in my parent’s bedroom and my world got a whole lot bigger.

“Well, I…” Mom broke off to smooth her apron and then smiled just a little.  “He does have a very nice… smile.”  Then we started to giggle like madwomen.  I don’t fall far from the tree, I can assure you of that.

I stood and brushed the creases out of my dress.  “And I think I’m going to go rescue him now.”

Mom wanted to stop me, but I didn’t give her the chance and felt the cold the second I left the kitchen.  Dad had plopped Illya down in the Seat from Hell as we’d nicknamed it and given him a drink, which he then refused to let Illya take a sip from.  I could see Michael’s face was dark and angry looking and Bret looked like he was about to pop his cork.  Dad looked flustered and at a dead end.  Only Illya looked calm and at ease.  I could tell by the set of his shoulders he was anything but.  Still, they didn’t know that.

I swept into the room and over to Illya, grabbing his hand, his very capable, large and extremely… gifted hand, and pulled him easily to his feet.  “Mom said dinner should be ready in a few minutes.  Let me show you around.”

To his credit, Illya smiled, nodded politely to Dad, ignored my brothers completely, set his whiskey sour down onto a carefully placed coaster, and I led him out the patio door to the back yard.

The minute we’d gotten out of ear shot, I whispered, “Sorry.”

“I didn’t know I was to be so effectively interrogated.  Your brothers are a little aggressive.”

“So am I,” I pushed him behind the shelter of a Flowering Myrtle and grabbed two handfuls of shirt.  He didn’t resist, but came easily… well, he doesn’t… come easily, but that’s another whole discussion.  We met in a kiss that I tried very hard to make into a heartfelt apology.

I wanted to feel his body against mine, but Illya was in control and he kept his hands loosely clasping my waist and forced me away from his groin a respectable few inches.  He was dead serious about not getting an erection in those pants.

“Get off my sister!” Michael suddenly appeared and I felt Illya flinch, digging his fingers into my waist.  It’s bad form to surprise an agent, but he didn’t know what Illya really was or what he was capable of.  He grabbed me and pulled me away from Illya.  Oh, this was not going to be pretty.  I’d seen Illya in the gym more than once.  He could kill Michael as easily as I could a fly and probably with less effort.

“Leave me alone, Mikey,” I snapped and wrenched out of his grasp.  Instantly, Illya moved and insinuated himself between me and my brother.  Then he reached out and caught Michael by the wrist and a second later Mike was on his knees, gasping in pain, his face contoured.

“I believe your sister has conveyed her wishes quite clearly.  As for the other, I was doing nothing untoward except expressing my appreciation for her timely rescue.”  Illya just stood there, calm and cool, like he was giving directions to the nearest subway platform.  I could see his forearm cord as he applied more pressure. 

“Beat it, Mikey, I’m a big girl.  I don’t need any help.”  I said from behind the shelter of my escort.

Bret appeared just then and I watched his eyes get really big.  It wasn’t often he’d seen his big brother in that position. 

“I trust there will be no further outbursts this evening?”  Illya released his grip and Michael was on his feet and a respectable five feet away before I could draw my next breath.  He cradled his wrist to his body and looked both in awe and in shock as to what had just happened.  What he didn’t look was angry.

“Mom said that dinner is ready…”  Bret looked from one man to the other, confused, not sure whether to come to his brother’s aid or congratulate Illya for knocking Michael down a peg.  He opted for the coward’s approach and retreated.  A moment later Michael followed him, still rubbing his wrist.

“I’m sorry.” Illya stared after my brothers as they disappeared into the house.

“For what?  Mikey’s been too big for his britches for years.  He even has Dad scared to death of him.  It was time for someone gave him a wakeup call.  He’s been the biggest and baddest for so long that he’s starting to believe his own press.”

Illya smiled slightly.  “It is a brother’s prerogative and responsibility to be interested in his sister’s welfare.  I will admit that I did not make dating easy for my younger siblings, but they had the advantage of my being gone for the most part.”

Huh, I didn’t know he had siblings… Illya is a generous lover, but not much of a sharer when it came to other things.

I won’t lie and say dinner was fabulous and it went smashingly.  About halfway through the main entrée, Mom let the ‘M’ word slip and Illya nearly choked on his roast beef.  I learned years ago that you never said the word ‘matrimony’ around an agent if you expected him to be there in the morning.   On the up side, Michael decided to keep to himself the rest of the evening and Illya pretended that little interlude on the lawn never happened.

It was hard to stay afterwards and make small talk when all I had was other ‘stuff’ on my mind, but we managed nearly an hour of light hearted banter… well, as light hearted as my dour Russian was likely to get.  The flash of relief in his eyes when I stood and announced that I had an early call in the morning and needed to get home was too wonderful for words.

He very properly shook my father’s hand as he was invited to drop by any time and Mom blushed like a school girl when Illya kissed her hand again. 

“Well, that went better than I expected.” I admitted once I was back in the car and we were pulling away from the curb. 

“What was the point of all of that?” Illya was busy watching the road now that dark had fallen.

“Take your next left and then a hard right,” I instructed. “And I’ll show you.”

The road was still bumpy and the car bucked like a bronco, but eventually the road ran out and we were parked at the edge of an overlook.  There were a few cars already parked there, their windows steamy.

Illya glanced over at me, expectantly, and I started to giggle.  Never had it occurred to me that he had no idea what this was or the sheer purpose for being here

“The view is very nice,” he ventured, still looking perplexed.

I managed to slip from the front to the back with as much grace as was possible wearing a skirt and patted the bench seat beside me and you could see the light come on in his head.

“The view is much better from back here.  Put up the top and let’s… talk.”

And I will give Illya credit.  He talks very well, even when he’s not saying a word.  Within a minute, he’d gotten the top into place and had settled beside me.  Another nice thing about Illya, he picks up on things very quickly.

He tugged me over on top of his lap and I happily straddled him, dropping my hand to fumble with his belt and pants clasp.  I eased his zipper down, knowing full well he was going _au natural_ and I didn’t want to catch anything by accident.  His penis sprang forth and I sighed happily.

In that moment, I knew… I didn’t want to marry him, not a guy with the life expectancy of a gnat.  I didn’t even want to be engaged or think about happy ever after.   I just wanted this moment, knowing that Illya was here willingly and more than prepared to meet my… expectations.   I didn’t want forever, I just wanted now.

I sighed and eased myself down onto him, moving slowly to let myself stretch to accommodate him.  Like I said before, nothing about Illya was little and I learned the hard way to go slow at first.

He makes this funny little noise, a half gasp, half sigh, when we do this the first time and I let out an appreciative little moan as his finger found my clit and started to make a lazy circle on it.  I was going to go off like a firecracker tonight with very little encouragement and I started moving in rhythm with his finger, faster and faster until I see a flash of white.   No, not a cop’s flashlight… just my happy little trip into the very warm and cozy world of my climax.  Then I felt Illya’s hands on my hips, holding me still as he thrust up into me and then his head tipped back and he groaned.  I could feel him throbbing and I tightened my vaginal muscles as much as I could.  This gave me another nice little climax along the way and he moaned in appreciation.

We stayed like this for a long minute, just happily basking in our post-coital bliss, then Illya slid out of me.  If the car had been larger, I would have tried for a blow job, but there just wasn’t enough space and I wasn’t about to risk getting a kink in my neck.  I used his handkerchief to clean us up instead.

Wordless, we climbed back into the front seat and Illya worked at the convertible top for a moment.  It was a beautiful night, warm and quiet, except for some interesting noises coming from the other cars.  We turned a deaf ear to them and just sat, holding hands.  I’d have killed for a cigarette, but Illya doesn’t smoke as a rule.

A few minutes later, a cop car pulled up and a figure climbed out.  A flashlight beam played over us for a minute and, finding nothing interesting, moved on.

“Worth it?” Illya looked over at me, his eyes still half shut, sated, at least for the moment.  But I know from previous experience that he was just getting cranked up.

“I’d like to think so.”  I looked up at the stars and let out a long yawn.  “I’m ready to go home though.”

“To sleep?”

“Eventually…”  We watched the cops roust a few of the more amorous couples and Illya started the car’s engine. 

I knew I’d never take him back to see Mom and Dad again.  Illya isn’t the sort of guy you could drag to family functions or events, but Napoleon… if Mom thought Illya was primo male, wait until I conned Mr. S. into making a little trip with me.  He’d thrill her socks off… and Dad’s too.

“What are you thinking about?”  I was actually startled by Illya’s question and I looked over at him, smiling.

“Not much of anything.”

“Might I remind you what I do for a living?  I’d hate to have to ‘torture’ the answer out of you.”

And as delightful as some of his tortures were, I knew what he meant.  “I’m sorry to have put you through all of that tonight.  I hope I’ve made up for it a little.”

“I’d prefer to think of it as an ongoing situation whose rectification will be long in coming.”

“No, don’t throw me into that briar patch, Br’er Fox,” I said, laughing at the look he shot me.  “I’ll explain later.  If you take the next left, it’s a short cut to the freeway.”

I never did take him back to the suburbs after that and we still see each other off and on.  Mom asked about him for a while and then stopped.  I’m not sure if she’s just gotten tired of my putting her off or she’d finally gotten the message about our situation.  It didn’t matter… I had bigger fish to fry… my delightful Mr. Solo…

 

 

 

 


End file.
